Copy-cat
by Klaudee
Summary: "She photocopied the display because she can't make a screenshot. We can't trust a person like that." "No one cares for your opinion Stark." "She is like Thor with blender, just million times worse. I bet she doesn't realize we can see her even with that green light staring her in the face." "I do know that actually." "Oh. Wow, we are saved. I feel a lot better now, thank You."
1. Chapter 1

Her spinning chair wasn't spinny enough.

It would go around in circles, but only if it stays in one place. Try rolling on it across the whole length of archives while spinning, preferably with your limbs flying around like a halo and you have a national emergency at your hands.

Her head lolled back, her whole body strewn on the chair, the back creaking under her weight as she stopped trying to get on the other side of the room. She frowned at the sound, and tucked her muffin belly under her belt of her jeans shorts, patting it afterwards, hoping the belt would not tear. Taking her hair in one hand she threw it behind her and then reached her hands behind the chair, trying to cope a feel of how long it was. She wasn't sure why, but they always felt longer when she tried to measure them that way.

Goosebumps were rising on her bare legs and she cursed the hot weather outside. The glorious concrete streets of New York City were like oven these days, frying unfortunate dickheads in their million fibre suits and watches from gold that unicorns shit. Vick pitied them, but only just a little, cause you know, they still were dickheads. But being the low life of a company, had it's perks of having free will in choosing what you wear, e.g. jean shorts and red shirt with ketchup stain that could be considered artistic if viewed from distance great enough. But the creepy cold from the archives, that were situated in basement, and Vick is like what the fuck why does it always have to be the basement, weren't kind to her poor limbs.

Touching her feet briefly on a floor, she tried to propel herself into circular motion, the centrifugal force leaning her further back.

She felt a pang of pride at herself for using that word.

_Centrifugal. _My God, she sounded so smart. She could totally fake being a smart person with, like, gazillion brains and glasses thick like her waist and she would just rock.

But karma is a bitch.

And the bitch sent her sprawling ungracefully on the floor in a tangled heap of limbs and hair.

Vick let out a pitiful groan. Blowing a raspberry to get rid of hair in her mouth she let out a small; "Help."

Though the ceiling above her was thin enough so she was able to her anyone coming down to the archives, because they were so evolved and new that they didn't have an elevator coming to the basement, there wasn't a chance that they could hear her. Not that she had many visitors to be honest.

Once or twice, if the heaven allowed, she would get a delivery of materials and papers and documents to sort through and file. They always came on a cart with tiny wheels that were always creaking. She always though it was funny, because it never failed to carry a shitload of stuff and it looked like a donkey from India or just any other place where they have donkeys. The only true reason why she looked forward to it, was Steve.

That guy was sex on two legs.

He was the most gorgeous thing she ever saw.

She always sighed when she saw him and would get starry eyed. He had the craziest shoulders ever. Not ever the shirts he was wearing wanted to believe it, that's why they stretched too much and offered her a glorious view when he was leaving, going up on the stairs.

And the stairs.

_Dude._

His butt was even rounder than two halves of a red watermelon.

Not a yellow one, though. No, no, no.

The big red juicy one, because son, we are talking business here. Too bad she couldn't test out the firmness. But at least she had something to talk about with her Black Widow pen that her cousin got her for her birthday. She was short on people material here. Steve just gave her a shy smile and never said a word, so she had to use what she had at her disposal. No stinky eye, man.

Getting back to present, she realized that she was still on a floor, her legs tingling from losing feeling in them. Groaning and huffing and puffing she got up and smoothed down her wrinkled shirt.

Seeing no scraps on her knees and arms, she concluded that the only casualty was the chair with one plastic wheel rolling to the other side of the archives.

Vick glared after it and then set her eyes at the chair.

"You unreliable piece of shit! Breaking my trust like that." Come on, she had that chair since she started to work here.

What in fact, was like 3 months.

But still enough to form some serious attachment.

Stalking back to her admission room, she shut the door firmly. She let herself sit on a wooden chair at her desk, apprehension visible in her body. She was distrustful for a temporary moment of any furniture for the foreseeable future.

She was done with her paperwork for this week. It was already Thursday, so it would be inhuman to give her another load to file. But if not working, she had no other way of spending her time in here. She didn't have a phone with internet, it's not like she could catch a signal in here, and copying her face proved fruitless as she wasn't able to keep her eyes open when the copier was scanning her face. And having stacks of papers with your body parts copied in her drawer seemed like enough. And even that stopped being funny when she once fell asleep with her face lying on the glass and she drooled all over the copier. Try explaining that to the repairman.

She was in a middle of combing Widow's hair into a braid when her ears picked up the sound of shoes clicking on the floor, one story higher.

Hiding her pen, she pulled out some random papers, trying to look like a busy woman immersed in her work. At first, faking working was hard, but practise makes you perfect and now she could start telling you about what was on the paper and what the numbers meant and sound like she knows her stuff.

Waiting for a knock, she kept her head down, her eyes scanning the letters, filling out all the o's.

The door opened without anyone knocking.

Well that's just rude.

Steve _always_ knocks. Guess that makes Steve an extra special guy then.

She looked up, a small frown settling itself across her features. They could have interrupted her in counting something or she could have been filing some super duper secret government stuff they could kill someone for if they would get a glimpse of them. Truth to be told, there is nothing extremely confidential about office supplies, toilet paper and kitchen eatables and pretty much everything that was needed to run a company and keep alive a very large household.

It was a delivery guy.

Or a postman or whatever suits your needs. Vick never gets mail. Well, she does but it's mail she would rather forget.

She squinted her eyes in suspicion.

"Ehhhh." Started the guy, sliding the ball of pen across the delivery list with his hip sticking out. Just then she noticed a brown box under his armpit. A sweaty one. _Ewwwww._

She willed him with her mind to go faster to keep her package in contamination free condition.

"Sherry Victor?" The guy asked, ugly smirk on his face revealing a set of crooked teeth. Vick scowled at him. So what. She had a special name. Her momma said it was a special name just like herself, so be it.

And damn right it was special.

She leaned over her desk, her breast knocking over her paper cup full of pens. Ignoring them as they scattered on the table, with some falling on the floor she read the name on his tag.

"I'm sorry, _Hugo_, do we have a problem here?" She asked him sweetly, trying to make his name sound as retarded as possible.

He rolled his eyes at her but didn't get rid of the smirk. He scrabbled something on a paper, tore it of and handed the clipboard to her.

"Sign it." He told her, shifting her box closer to his armpit. Seeing the package in dangerous proximity to the toxic area she quickly wrote down her name and handed the board back to him.

Closing the door after him without saying goodbye, Vick set the box on the table in front of her.

She never got packages. Like ever. Only mail and we covered that part already. This should be written down as a historic moment. Confetti and rice should be thrown all around with flashes of cameras directed at her.

Well, she was not going to wait for the crowds forever, was she.

This was so exciting she was starting to get a headache. She grabbed a small plastic container, that stood on the desk among the pens and shook out few pills on her hands, swallowing them dry. She was way past caring to count them.

It took her just few seconds to tear the package open, her excitement taking over.

And...

It was a phone.

Vick already has a phone. She didn't order a new one and didn't know about anyone sending her one. This must be a mistake. What was a bit depressing, considering the phone looked so high-tech that Stark would have trouble operating it.

OK, maybe not. Well, like at all not, like forever just not.

Disappointment flowed through her, her body slumping a tiny bit over the torn box.

But...Well, just because it wasn't hers that doesn't mean she couldn't play with it, right? And who said it didn't belong to her. It was after all her name _Hugo _read of the delivery list, wasn't it? Maybe it was her boss idea to reward her fruitful work in the basement and make the passing of time more fluid, giving her a toy to play it. That's it. She found the Holy Grail.

Taking the phone gingerly in her hands she scanned it for on button.

She wasn't stupid. She saw a commercial for iPhone a she knew that it had a button that was supposed to turn it on. But this one didn't have anything like that. The sides were smooth and the display was almost translucent.

"Well, fuck." She said out loud, seeing no way of turning it on.

The moment the words left her lips, the translucent screen lit up a bright pale blue colour.

"Access granted. Welcome. Please, state your name."A very synthetic but pleasant voice said from the phone.

The phone speaks.

"Jesus." Vick said, her eye bugged out in surprise.

"Incorrect. Two more attempts." The phone said calmly after if beeped rather obnoxiously.

"What?" She said again, completely boggled at the device in her hands.

"Incorrect. One more attempt." Phone said in disembodied voice.

Vick slapped a hand over her mouth to keep her from saying anything else but her name. Well, this was turning out to be way more exciting Thursday than what she hoped for.

She would have cleared her throat, but she though the phone might take it for her name.

"Sherry Victor." She said but her voice chose that exact moment to hitch. Vick made a grimace expecting the voice to shut down on her or make her repeat her name over and over again so she could have her own Chekov moment.

But the phone stayed silent.

Well, that was anticlimactic.

Looking back at it, she should have waited a moment before thinking that.

The previously light blue screen turned red, a flash blinding her vision, a photo of her shocked face with an opened mouth visible on the display.

"Security breach. Protocol 5-7-omega-8-1 activated. Sherry Victor- object identified. Contacting Director Nicholas Fury Jr."

Oh, fuck.

At least she got her camera with a flash.

.

.

.

I was playing Sims and I had there a character Beth Barnes (ohmygooo how original) and I made her write and write because I wanted her to be a best-seller author and then I was like, "Really?". So I turned it off and went to write a chapter for my other story. And then I though, I'm going to start a new one, so here I am.

I just would love to know if there is anyone interested in reading more? If you are, please leave a review even the shortest possible like yes/God please no so I would know. Thanks a lot :)


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you think Fury has a diarrhea? He has been gone for a suspiciously long time." Tony mused out loud after he bullied an intern into telling them when the Boss Man was. The intern was now praying in corner of the conference room they were in. They were called in for some kind of a super meeting. Tony was bored and obnoxious, Clint bored twice as much, Natasha cool and professional, occasionally stealing Clint's arrows and picking her nails with it. Steve was supposed to join them but wasn't yet there and Bruce was not attending. He didn't calculate the optimal amount of curry and chilli and hulked out at first bite of his lunch and was now resting. And their hammer wielding space friend was flying around the cosmos doing Odin know what.

"I don't know..." Pondered Clint, legs on the giant table in the centre of the room, twirling another arrow between his fingers. "But it's like wondering if Voldemort sneezes. You just don't." He said, glancing over at Tony.

"I don't need one, Stark. I have enough of your shit without adding mine." Fury said loudly walking into the room, giving a stink eye to the intern.

"That was just rude Nick. My feeling are hurt." Tony said, putting a hand over his heart.

Fury ignored Tony's jab at him, walking over to the head of the table with big screen behind him, for now displaying Shield logo.

"But no really." Stark said, putting his hands on the table, leaning forward. "I'm interested. I want to know. Are you some kind of space deity that is above these human needs or are you just your girl-next-door guy person?"

Clint snickered at Tony's question.

"I'm afraid that is level 8 clearance information." Coulson said walking into the room carrying a folder under his arm.

"But I am an Avenger." Tony said defiantly, throwing his hands around. Natasha rolled her eyes at his antics, giving the arrow back to Clint.

"Yes you are." Coulson said with ever present half-smile on his face. "And that means that you are level 2 clearance." He said calmly, handing the file to Director.

Tony spluttered trying to come up with a witty response but came up empty handed. Without nothing to fire back, he crossed his arms and looked at wall next to Coulson's head.

"If we could start on what I called you here for today. We have a problem that-"

"I'm sorry I'm late." Said Steve, half jogging half-walking into the room, hurriedly sitting on the nearest chair available. Hanging out with Natasha was beneficial for his style, now wearing black leather jacket and white T-shirt, what made Coulson very happy.

"America has fallen. Morals no longer exist. Help yourself how you can." Tony cried dramatically.

"The next thing that won't exist will be you if you keep this behaviour up." Natasha said few chairs from Tony, before giving Steve a mischievous smile. Nothing ever escapes Widow, not even when their Super Soldier sneaks out to visit a certain girl.

"If you are done retarding around, I would like to start the meeting officially and permanently with no more interruptions." Fury said. Though his voice was calm, it was painfully obvious to everyone it the room, that if you as much as squeak, you'll be out, in unconventional way of course.

Everyone sat still and quiet and Fury looked almost proud of himself for a moment, before, of course it all fucked itself up.

The screen behind Fury's bald head started glowing an angry red.

"Security breach. Protocol 5-7-omega-8-1 activated. Object identified as Sherry Victor." A computer voice said what was written on the display. The program started beeping rather loudly, with orange emergency lights flashing in the room.

Tony was looking around wide-eyed, Clint raised an eyebrow but shrugged after while, Natasha inclined her head but her expression remained stony and Steve was on high alert expecting squads of soldiers to come barreling through the closed door to the conference room.

And Fury... Fury kept his hands on table, but his one good eye was twitching.

Coulson seeing his boss's reacting moved to work. "I think I'm going to turn it off." He said, ever calm and yanked a cable from an outlet, effectively quieting the beeping and turning the flash lights off.

"Now that all the drama is over, what the fuck happened?" Inquired Tony, fingers tapping on phone under the table.

Fury sighed and ran a hand down his face. "Leave now. We'll finish this later." He said turning his back to the Avengers, scrutinizing the screen.

"Like hell you are. I finally drag myself here and you want to end this now? I object strongly." Tony protested looking around for support from his fellow teammates.

Clint removed his feet down from the table and started putting his arrows away God knows where as he didn't have his quiver with him. Natasha stood up quietly and Steve was just about standing up as well.

Tony looked around shocked, before something captured his attention under the table.

"Ha!" He shouted, causing others in the room to look at his in curiosity. "Fury, you sly old dog!" Tony exclaimed, making an exaggerated motion with his hands and a picture of some girl appeared on the screen. "Hiding a girl from us? Well.. she doesn't look pleased."

"Stark, what did I tell you about hacking the system?" Fury asked him annoyed but kept looking at the display.

"I don't really know. I have a very selective hearing when it comes to you." Tony said, beckoning the rest of Avengers over to sit back and enjoy the show.

"Sir, if I may, project Sherry Victor has been initiated few months ago considering information of high functioning operatives of enemy organisation." Coulson informed Fury, his eyes scanning the girl in the photo.

"Open connection." Fury ordered and the screen flashed once more to life.

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.

.

"What the fuck?" Vick told to the empty room, staring at the phone in her hands. The display didn't change, words staying the same except there was something really tiny flashing in the right top corner. But it was too small to be readable.

Seriously, what the hell. If that was a prank it was really stupid one. And who the hell was Fury anyway? She didn't know a guy like that and she would definitely remember someone with a surname like that.

She groaned, falling back into her chair, putting the phone on her desk and throwing the torn box on the floor. Phone provided her a distraction and now she felt the painkillers kicking in. Staring at the ceiling she sighed.

She could really eat something now but she had nothing with herself. But her lunch break was still too far away, like in a galaxy far far away.

"Well, this is rather mind-dumbing." She said herself and opened a drawer to her right, picking the Black Widow pen in her hand that she hid there earlier.

Twirling it between her fingers, she started thinking about that chair fiasco. It was a major problem. She didn't have a holy-spin-o-meter, but she was pretty sure that her other chair was way below the required level. No one should have such health hazard in their proximity. She could have died and no one would find out.

Until maybe Steve would come in next week with another cart full of shit that needed to be sorted and he would find her sprawled on the archive's floor, with a plastic wheel imbedded in her head. So not attractive. But he would at least pay her more attention then he does now.

Thinking about that chair made her feel like shit.

Vick felt guilt seeping through her bones as images of the poor chair lying destroyed made her sad. It was actually quiet inconsiderate and violent, what she did.

Standing up, she started making her way to the archives determined to apologise and at least try to tape the chair back together when a voice rang through the air.

"Is this Sherry Victor?"

That wasn't the phone's voice.

She pivoted on her spot, walking slowly to her desk eyeing the phone.

"Hello?" She asked.

"Is that yes or no?" Vick identified the voice as man's. Strangely, it sounded a bit familiar.

"Matters on whose asking. You could be some phone serial killer or Jehovah's witnesses for all I know." Vick said, plopping her butt on chair.

"I am insulted to be considered a Jehovah witness." This voice was different.

Vick raised her eyebrows and started tapping her pen against her forehead, the question running through her head thinking about what she should do.

"I have a question. Do you have a fat forehead? I don't trust people with fat forehead." She said to the phone seriously. And she wasn't even kidding. Have you ever seen a person with fat on his head that was trustworthy? No. See? She had a logic backing it up.

"Well.." Started the voice slowly, trying to think of what to say. "We have one guy whose whole head is just one big forehead and another who is wanting to join his ranks, but other-wise we are all biologically sound here with no fat in that area."

Vick tilted her head. "Fair enough. And yes, you have the honour of speaking to me."

"If you both finally stopped lowering your IQ, I need to know if there is anyone else that knows about that phone." This voice was new also.

Vick squinted her eyes suspiciously. "Is this the one from those two with the forehead?"

"Yes." The second voice said.

She fist-pumped the air in victory. "Well, there was this dickhead, _Hugo_, who brought me the package but I didn't open it in front of him." Hugo is missing out an adventure.

"Sir, I have to talk to you for a moment without Ms. Victor listening." The first voice said.

.

.

.

Fury touched a black circle on the screen, muting their microphone and turned expectantly at Coulson.

Phil just moved to the screen, typed in the girl's name and opened a file.

"Wait a minute.. We have a file on that girl?" Asked Clint disbelievingly.

Coulson gave him a look to keep quiet. "Yes we do. I actually know her. She lives in the same apartment building where I have one of my apartments if needed. The first time I met her was on stairs. She was having breakdown because all her eggs fell out of her shopping bag and her roommates didn't want to stop having sex."

"Did you just singled me out of our conversation?" Sherry asked angrily from the phone. They could still hear her after all.

Fury raised his barely visible eyebrow. "And why do we have a file on her in the system with her mugshot?" He asked him.

Coulson gave him an embarrassed smile. "One of the neighbour's kid gave me a Betta fish, so I set up a whole aquarium for Sushi-"

"You have a fish?" Asked Clint, arrows forgotten, staring at Coulson.

"I'm sorry Phil, you call your fish Sushi?" Tony asked him with bemused expression on his face set in a fashion _ are you fucking kidding me_. Rest of the Avengers wasn't any better. Clint was staring at him open mouthed with tears pooling in his eyes as he tried to keep his laughter in, Natasha was smirking and Steve was scandalized. The intern on the corner way long ago started to pretend he doesn't exist.

"What did I do to deserve it?" Sherry didn't sound very pleased.

"The fish already came with that name. The kid has a bit homicidal sense of humour, I have to admit." Coulson said with now a fond smile replacing his previous embarrassing one.

"What happened next?" Asked Steve, who was quiet until now. He may have been horrified at the story but even he didn't fail to see the hilarious side of it and he was a sucker for any kind of story.

"Well, I went on a month long mission and though Sushi is a survivor-" Clint burst out laughing "- going a month without food would be probably fatal. I was in such a hurry that it completely escaped my mind. Until I got a text two weeks into the mission. Sherry-"

"Come on Natasha, we gotta apologise to that lil shit." Sherry again.

"-broke into my apartment, triggering a silent alarm and fed Sushi. Then she was apprehended by a special force team and taken to a Shield facility."

"Well, she certainly know how to live a life." Commented Tony leaning back in his seat.

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Yada, yada. Any thoughts? Ideas?

Thanks for reading :)


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